Towards Morlaix in the fog

Neither of us wanted to stay in Roscoff for more than two nights. It felt very expensive compared to the other marinas, and we did not feel especially well looked after. Julian wanted to go to Morlaix, and did some careful passage planning to allow us to lock in to the wet basin at the top of the drying river. It meant an early start, getting away from the berth by 07:30 at the latest, so I set the alarm for 06:30.

When the alarm went I looked out of the cabin, and my heart sank. Fog. Thick fog, making it hard to see the masts of the boats on the next pontoon over. We got up much more slowly than we had expected, but still prepared Robinetta for the trip, hoping the fog would thin. At 7:30 Julian thought it had, and suggested we go. We had the radar reflector rigged, the AIS transponder working with it’s aerial up the mast, and the running lights on. We could also hear a fog horn. We knew that there would be a ferry coming in to Roscoff, and discharging passengers at 08:00, and I suspected this was it.

We came off the pontoon and set off towards the marina exit, but as I had feared the lights were red, forbidding movement. We station kept for the next ten minutes, waiting for the ferry to finish docking, then set off out of the harbour as soon as the lights allowed.

The fog stayed thick. Very thick, and only the course programmed into the chart plotter told me where to steer. There was very little wind, but we got the main sail up and bent on the no 1 jib. Putting the engine into neutral dropped the speed so much that we would miss the lock in, so the jib was furled away and we carried on under engine.

At about nine Julian pointed out that he could see the sun through the fog, and there was some blue sky overhead. We began to be able to see occasional small leisure fishing boats; white shapes in the white fog. The blue sky stayed, but fog blanketed the sun again. The area is well buoyed, but we had less than 1 cable visibility most of the way.

We threaded our way though the rocky islands, at high zoom on the chart plotter, keeping a careful eye out for crab pot markers. We passed an oddly regular looking island, taller than most, and realised that this must be Château du Taureau. We could see no details, just a shape in the mist. We were not the only boat moving in the area, but it was hard to know how many other idiots were out with us!

As we got to Locquenole, where Le Dourduff river separates from the Morlaix river I almost went the wrong way, despite the chart plotter, as I tried to follow a local boat through some moorings. I could see a bridge ahead, and wondered about its air draft, but Julian promised there were no problems, looked at the chart plotter, and told me to head to starboard, and up the other branch of the river.

My little excursion did mean I was clear of the channel when the Morlaix ferry came speeding past, which was not a bad thing. I put Robinetta’s engine in high revs, to try and follow the ferry for as long as possible, but it was out of sight in less than 5 minutes. It had made the direction to go obvious though, and then there was a line of moored boats that defined the channel on both sides. I could see red and green buoys mixed among them, then I could see the shore line, on both sides, and suddenly we were out of the fog, heading up a river in bright sunshine.

The transformation was startling.

The Morlaix river above Locquenole is beautiful, threading though attractive countryside, with clear bouyage. We passed a line of scum on the water, that obviously marked the place where the incoming tide met the outgoing river flow. It was still an hour to high water, and the current was negligible.

The Morlaix lock came into view, with the ferry that had passed us on the way up just leaving its dock to set off down river again. Between us was a slalom course of red and green buoys in quite a narrow channel. We crossed tracks without incident, but with judicious use of the throttle to slow down.

There was no sign of the lock moving, but a local boat was moored up against a wall, obviously waiting. The wall was well set up, with heavy chains to put lines round as temporary moorings. They were placed for bigger boats than Robinetta, and we had to go round twice to get our lines right.

The lock opened only five minutes after we moored, and we went in with four other boats. It is a big lock, and could easily fit in three times the number. The harbour master is a lovely guy. He helped us moor up in the lock (on ropes set vertically so there is no need to keep adjusting the lines) and gave me a mooring plan, marked with exactly the spot he wanted Robinetta to go. When we reached it he was there to make sure we did not miss it, and he helped take our lines. Real service!

Once Robinetta and Worm were secure we walked into town for an early lunch (not having had breakfast) then had a great walk round the place. The views from the viaduct are amazing and I am very glad we braved the fog to get here.